


Paying the Rent

by Natalie L (nat1228)



Series: A Mortgaged Life [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nat1228/pseuds/Natalie%20L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim rescues a young university student from a life of prostitution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paying the Rent

## Paying the Rent

by Natalie L

Author's website:  <http://www.squidge.org/~nat1228/TSslash.htm>

The Sentinel and its characters belong to Pet Fly and Paramount. In no way was this meant as an infringement on their copyright. This piece of fan fiction was written for the enjoyment of the author and fans of The Sentinel.

Thanks to my betas, Elaine and Kimberly, who worked beyond the call to make sure this story came out right.

Okay, another well-used theme, but one I had to explore for myself. This is a Blair-as-prostitute story, and therefore contains scenes of consensual sex between Blair and a paying customer. There is no rape, although some may assume it's implied in later scenes. Read at your own risk.  
Appeared previously in the My Mongoose ezine The Many Faces of Blair 2. A sequel can be found at: http://www.squidge.org/~nat1228/warning.htm -- Please heed the warnings before choosing to read this story. At this time (Oct. 2002), I have no intentions of posting the sequel to the archive.

This story is a sequel to: --- 

* * *

Jim Ellison sat in the smoky bar, looking up at the endless parade of exotic dancers taking turns trying to lure the customers back stage. He didn't know what had brought him here. As a general rule, he tried to keep the fact that he was gay under wraps. After all, it was hard enough being a detective in the city's Major Crime unit without broadcasting his sexual preferences. 

He was on the prowl. It had been months since he'd had a chance to make an encounter, and that relationship had lasted all of two dates. Jim wasn't looking to buy time with one of the dancers -- prostitution was, after all, illegal, whether you were the prostitute or the john. He had hoped to find a companion among the other patrons of the seedy establishment. So far, he was striking out. Nursing a whiskey sour, he waited for the next dancer to parade his wares on the wide bar-stage. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"You're going to do fine," Sonny assured the newest arrival to his stable. "Just go out there, dance, display your stuff to the customers, and I'll do the rest." His hand kneaded the young man's crotch, fluffing him for his performance. 

"Do I have to strip?" the dancer asked nervously. Dressed only in a black fishnet shirt and tiny G-string, there was little left to the imagination. 

"Of course you do, Sweetcakes," Sonny said, stroking the shapely ass. "This is a nude bar. You knew that when you signed on." 

"I was just hoping . . . I mean, this is my first time. . . ." 

"Go out there and take it all off. Show the customers, let them touch. After all, the big money comes after the dancing." Sonny smiled wickedly at the nervous man. He took a metal ring from his pocket. Freeing the dancer's erection from the G-string, he slipped it down the length of his cock to the base. "This will help you stay hard during the performance." He tucked the rigid organ back into the slip of material, and patted his dancer's ass again. "Now get on out there." 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim watched with interest as the next dancer arrived on stage. Young, not much more than twenty, he assumed, and inexperienced if his initial hesitancy was anything to go by. The music pulsed, and the young man strutted across the stage. Jim couldn't remember ever seeing a man more beautiful. Dark brown hair fell in ringlets just past his shoulders. The bar lights backlit the mane, making it glow with red and amber highlights. Startling blue eyes looked out from a face marked by a delicate nose, high cheekbones and lush, full lips, framed by a strong, square jaw. Silver sparkled from two rings in his left ear and one in his left nipple. 

Jim found himself staring as the dancer worked the pole which was set five stools down from his position. As he slithered up and down, twirling around the stainless steel prop, the dancer shed his shirt, tossing it to a nearby patron. Jim found himself growling quietly as the man put the shirt to his face, inhaled deeply, and looked up at the dancer with naked desire. 

Mine. Jim's thoughts betrayed him, and he wondered again why he was here. He had no desire to patronize the prostitutes, yet he couldn't take his eyes off the young man on stage. He watched as the dancer teased the audience with his G-string, finally shedding the small garment. He crouched in front of the customer who had caught his shirt, and allowed the man to stroke his erection. This performance was repeated with several of the bar's customers in the course of dancing across the stage. 

Finally, the dancer stood in front of Jim, gyrating his shapely ass in Jim's face, then turning so he could fondle the goods. Desire shot through him, along with a need he couldn't quite define. The jeans he wore had suddenly become uncomfortably tight, and he squirmed in his seat. Keeping his hands firmly wrapped around his whiskey sour, he shook his head. For some reason, it was important to him to not debase this man with a casual touch. 

There was a sadness in the deep blue eyes as the dancer stood and worked his way back down the bar, to finally disappear off-stage. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Blair felt more naked than just the lack of clothes would account for. The stares and open looks of lust on the faces of the bar's patrons were disturbing. As the first customer fondled him, Blair felt disgust. The man was still holding Blair's shirt close to his face, and the proprietary squeeze and tug on his cock as Blair tried to move away said, "You are mine," as clearly as words. He worked his way down the bar, his sights set on the man who sat slightly apart from the rest. 

The icy blue eyes of the handsome man drew Blair to him. Here was hope for salvation. Hope that someone might offer a higher price for his ass than the seamy patron who sat near the pole. He danced for the man, finally crouching to let him feel the goods. Blair was almost anticipating those large hands on his aching cock. When the patron just hugged his drink and shook his head, Blair was devastated. He made his way back down the bar, resigned that his first night would not be pleasant. 

"That was great, Sweetcakes," Sonny greeted his dancer as Blair stepped off the stage. "You've got your first customer." Blair shivered as his manager guided him to a small dressing room, and produced a tray of toys. "This guy likes leather and bondage," Sonny told him, lifting a studded harness from the tray and slipping it across Blair's chest. "He also likes his boys staying hard through the whole performance, so we've got this little item." He lifted out a soft leather combination cockring. He removed the utilitarian ring Blair had worn for his performance, and slipped the leather one down the length of his penis. He pulled on Blair's scrotum before fastening the inch-wide leather "ballstretcher" around the sac. "This'll keep you from coming," Sonny explained. 

Blair's eyes were watering as the too-tight contraption constricted his genitals, but found the torture wasn't over yet. Sonny removed the silver nipple ring, stroking and pinching at his nipples until they formed tight peaks on his chest, then attached stainless steel clamps to each. The clamps were connected by a chain, which was fastened to the cockring. The chain was just millimeters too short, pulling painfully down on his nipples, while raising his cock. The final humiliation was a pair of fur-lined, leather handcuffs. Bound, he was led to one of the bar's many back bedrooms, and shoved inside. 

"Well, well, well," said a voice from the shadows of the room. "Come here, Sweet Thing. Let me see you." 

Blair approached the bed, knowing what he was going to have to do before he would be released. Once again, he wondered how he could stoop so low as to sell his body for a few dollars. But rent and tuition were expensive, and the student had yet to find another way that paid well enough to allow him to make ends meet. He stood beside the bed and awaited the wishes of his john. 

The man rolled off the bed. Standing in the neon light from the room's lone window, Blair could make out the features of the pudgy customer who had so coveted his shirt. "Lie down," the man commanded, patting the mattress. Blair did as he was instructed, and found his hands securely fastened to the metal bars of the headboard. "I don't want any talk out of you," he was instructed. "Just moans when you find out how good I make you feel. You're gonna want more, Boy," he bragged, climbing onto the bed. 

The man straddled Blair's lower body and began to explore with his hands. The john leaned down, fastening his lips on Blair's and forcing the young man's mouth open with his tongue. Blair nearly gagged on the scent and taste of alcohol as the man invaded his mouth. He allowed the plundering, groaning in pain as the man's hands found the nipple clamps and squeezed them tighter. 

"That's right, Boy," the man teased. "I told you I would make you moan." He tugged at the chain connecting the two clamps, and Blair's eyes watered. He blinked back the tears, determined not to give this man the satisfaction. 

"Did Sonny tell you I'm one of his regular customers?" the man asked. Blair shook his head, eyes wide as the man stroked the length of his considerable cock, then began to lube it. "I asked him for a virgin, and he said he had some new ass for me tonight. I like tight, hot little virgin asses." He shoved two lubed fingers inside Blair, eliciting a gasp of surprise and pain. He chuckled. "You think that's good, wait till you get the real thing!" Blair was quite sure he didn't want to find out, but moments later a cry ripped from his throat as he was brutally entered. 

The man pounded inside him, murmuring, "Good, good. Tight, hot ass. Sweet. . . ." He fisted Blair's cock in time with his thrusts, making the young man cry out in frustration. Finally, white-hot fire ripped through him as the man climaxed, emptying himself inside Blair's body. The man collapsed on top of him, cutting off his breath. Finally, the john rolled off, still gently stroking Blair's engorged cock. 

"You're a sweet piece of ass," he murmured. "You'll be seeing more of me." He gave Blair's penis one final squeeze, tearing a cry from the young man's throat, before dressing quickly and leaving. 

Blair lay in the dark room, handcuffed to the headboard and unable to relieve himself. Tears of pain and humiliation streamed down his cheeks, and he wondered again if rent and tuition were worth the price he had to pay. 

The door cracked open and Sonny entered. "You did good tonight," he said, sitting on the edge of the mattress and unlocking the handcuffs. Once Blair's hands were free, Sonny released the cockring. A few gentle strokes of the engorged organ was all it took for Blair to spill semen all over his belly and chest. "You just rest here until you feel better, then come pick up your share. I think you've done enough for your first night," Sonny said, sympathy for the inexperienced prostitute coloring his tone. 

When the door closed behind the pimp, Blair curled into a ball and gave his tears free rein. 

~oO0Oo~ 

A month, and Mr. B had become a regular customer. Three times a week: Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays, like clockwork. Blair had other customers; johns who were more thoughtful, more gentle -- but none tipped as well as the businessman who liked to slum on the south side of town. 

Tonight he was dressed in a form-hugging silver lame jumpsuit and matching G-string. As he strutted out onto the stage, he smiled seductively at his well-heeled client. He peeled the garment off slowly, his hips swaying sensuously to the slow music, and draped the soft fabric around the man's neck. Mr. B reached up to squeeze his balls, a sign that he would pay well tonight for his favorite. 

Blair slipped out of his grip and gyrated down the stage. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the man sitting near the far end of the bar, nursing his drink and watching the dancer. He stripped the G-string, freeing his erection, and dropped the minuscule garment in the patron's lap. Light blue eyes connected with his and a shock ripped through him, causing his cock to weep pre-come. He crouched down, praying this man would touch him, claim him for the night. It was hard to hide his disappointment when the man gripped his drink and shook his head. 

Blair reluctantly made his way back down the stage, stooping in front of Mr. B to take the man's face in his palms, kissing him gently in invitation. The man rose and followed the dancer to the back rooms. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim's feelings were mixed upon seeing the beautiful young dancer on stage. While his active libido enjoyed the view, the reasoning part of his mind was screaming that this was no place and no job for a kid like that. He deserved better. Much better. 

He felt a growl of displeasure rumble up from his chest as he watched the young man tease the overweight customer who sat in front of the dancer's pole. This boy was his, even if he didn't know it yet. 

His heart beat faster as the dancer worked his way down stage. It was obvious, when their eyes locked, that the young man remembered him. He watched as the dancer slithered out of the G-string, dropping the garment into his lap. The scent of arousal was strong, and Jim's own organ ached in sympathy as he watched the pre-come dribble out from the swollen head of the cock bobbing within easy reach. He gripped his drink tightly and shook his head, knowing that his refusal would turn the dancer back to the arms of the other man. He watched, his stomach churning, as the beautiful boy made his way back to the heavy-set man, taking his face between strong hands, and kissing him. Not able to watch any longer, he picked up his jacket, threw some money down next to his drink, and walked out of the bar. He sauntered over to his new Expedition and climbed inside. He reached for his keys, but quickly re-pocketed them and sat watching the entrance to the club. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Blair dressed slowly, pulling on the soft, worn denim jeans and a blue plaid flannel shirt, topping the ensemble with a ratty leather jacket that was barely able to protect him from the cold February winds. His body ached. He could feel the pulse of his heart in his throbbing nipples, which still stood at attention, rubbing painfully against the soft fabric of his shirt. His spent cock and ass still ached as well, making walking difficult. He opened the back door of the club and walked out into the winter cold. It was only three blocks to the bus stop, he told himself firmly. He could make it. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim saw the young man exit the club by the back door and walk toward him. He passed the truck, heading down the block toward the bus stop. Jim climbed out of his vehicle and quickly followed. Catching up, he reached out to snag an elbow. "Where are you headed?" he asked, when the young man stopped and turned around. 

Recognition lit the dark blue eyes. "Bus stop," the young man answered. His voice sounded tired and defeated. 

"I can give you a lift home," Jim suggested, hoping the young man would take him up on his offer. "My name's Jim Ellison," he said, extending a hand. 

The dancer accepted, clasping Jim's palm with a strong grip. "Blair. Blair Sandburg," he reciprocated. He glanced up the street. Knowing he'd have a long wait for the bus, he made up his mind. "Okay. Sure. Lead the way, man." He followed Jim back to the waiting Expedition. "Nice wheels," he commented, climbing in. 

"Thanks," Jim replied, starting up the engine and turning on the heater. "Where to?" Blair gave him an address, and he pulled out of the parking lot. 

"I've seen you at the club," Blair began, once they had driven several blocks. "You come often?" 

"No." Jim kept his eyes on the road, not trusting himself with Blair sitting so near. Blair, who still smelled strongly of musky sweat, arousal and completion. Blair, whose hair, now tied back in a ponytail, still sparkled with red and gold highlights as they passed beneath the street lights. Blair, who now wore glasses, and looked sexier than ever. The name fit the man . . . beautiful Blair. "No," he repeated. "Tonight was just my second time." 

"Oh." Blair fell silent, watching the blocks fly by. 

Eventually, they entered the old warehouse district. Jim turned to his passenger with a questioning look. "Am I going the right way? You live around here?" 

"Yeah, just around the next corner," Blair said, pointing. 

Jim pulled up in front of a dilapidated old warehouse and stopped. Blair opened the door and hopped out. "Thanks for the ride." 

"You live here?" Jim was incredulous. 

"Sure. It's big and cheap," Blair replied with a grin. "Want to come in for a beer or something?" 

Jim stared at the old building, wondering how anyone could live in such a drafty, rundown place. "Sure," he heard himself answering, as he climbed out of the car. He followed Blair up the stairs and into an apartment, of sorts. There was a couch and an old TV with a bent rabbit ear antenna. Crates were set up as a coffee and end tables. A lamp set on one, glowing with a dim, yellow light. 

"The fridge is in there," Blair said, pointing. "Help yourself. I need to take a bath. Be out in a few." The young man disappeared through a doorway. Jim could hear the sound of water running . . . followed shortly by soft cursing. 

"What's the matter, Chief?" he called. 

Blair stomped out of the bathroom buttoning up his shirt. "No hot water," he grumbled. "And I really needed a soak tonight." He sank down on the couch next to Jim, slumping into a dejected heap. 

"How about my place?" Jim found himself asking. When Blair turned startled eyes on him, he continued. "I've got plenty of hot water . . . and a Jacuzzi tub." 

"Oh, man. . . ." Blair groaned, his eyes widening at the thought. Jim stood up and offered his hand. "I can't," he declined, looking more forlorn than ever. 

"Why not?" Jim wondered, genuinely confused. "It's just a little hot water. I certainly don't mind." He continued to hold out his hand, until Blair finally clasped it and allowed himself to be pulled up from the sagging couch. 

"I shouldn't," Blair continued to protest, as he followed Jim back out to the truck. "It isn't right taking advantage of someone I don't even know." 

"You let people you don't even know take advantage of you," Jim pointed out quietly. 

"That's different," Blair answered defensively. "I have to. It's my job." 

"Why?" Jim asked. 

"Why what?" 

"Why do you prostitute yourself like that? Dancing naked in a bar; letting strangers touch you." 

"You wouldn't." Blair's voice was soft and sad. 

Not that I didn't want to, Jim thought as he drove toward his home at 852 Prospect Avenue. And, oh God, how he had wanted to. . . . "You didn't answer the question." 

"It's a long story," Blair replied, falling silent. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim set out towels and a washcloth in the bathroom, then showed the young man the room across the hall. "It's a long drive back to your place," he said. "Why don't you just sleep here tonight?" 

"You want me to sleep here?" Blair asked, suspicion coloring his voice. He might still be new to this, but he understood that you didn't get something for nothing. He wasn't sure he could offer his body again tonight, but for the opportunity of a hot bath and a Jacuzzi tub, he'd consider it. 

"Sure," Jim answered. "And I'll drive you wherever you need to go in the morning." 

"Okay. . . ." Blair answered slowly. The lure of a hot bath and comfortable bed were too much to resist. 

"It's late, and I'm going to bed. Just try to be quiet, all right?" Jim turned to head for the stairs to his loft bedroom. 

"Sure. Okay," Blair answered, watching the big man take the flight of steps before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Forty-five minutes later, with most of his aches and pains soaked away for the time being, Blair climbed the stairs to Jim's bedroom. He walked around to the far side of the bed and climbed in, snuggling close to the older man. He watched the slow rise and fall of Jim's chest, and brushed a hand down the sculpted muscles. He kissed Jim's forehead, then covered the quiet lips with his mouth. 

Jim came awake to the feeling of a warm body blanketing him and a tongue playing around inside his mouth. Putting his hands against Blair's shoulders, he gently pushed the young man off him. "What do you think you're doing?" 

"You asked me to spend the night." 

"Not up here," Jim explained. "That's why I showed you the downstairs bedroom." They were the hardest words he had ever had to speak. This was exactly where he had fantasized the young man to be -- in his bed, at his side. 

"But you brought me here, let me use your tub and hot water. . . ." 

"Yeah, because you looked like you really needed a break," Jim supplied the half-truth as he took the opportunity to survey the young man. He reached out to brush a hand across a peaked and bloodied nipple. At Blair's sharply hissed intake of breath, he asked, "What did they do to you?" 

"Nothing that I didn't let them do," Blair answered enigmatically. 

Jim threw back the covers, and pressed the younger man down onto his back. Using heightened senses, he scanned the body, noting every bruise, every cut; especially the ones around his genitals. He flipped Blair over like a rag doll and spread his butt cheeks, gently probing his rectum. "You've got some tearing here. Mind if I check inside? I was a medic in the Army," Jim explained. 

Here it comes, Blair thought, sighing. "Go ahead." 

Jim generously lubed one finger and gently slid it inside. He could feel Blair tense as he entered him, and determined to try to be as gentle as possible. He rubbed the lining of the rectum as deep as his finger could reach. It felt so good, being inside this beautiful man, even if it was only his finger. He shook off thoughts of what it would be like to bury himself in that heat. There was something Jim couldn't quite define about this young man that told him the boy was off limits. 

Satisfied that there was no internal damage, he pulled out. "Are you gay?" he asked out of curiosity. 

Blair looked up at him with haunted eyes. "No," came the quiet reply. 

"Then why do you do this?" 

"Because I need the money. I'm a student at Rainier, working on my Masters thesis. It's an expensive school, and I've got rent and other obligations as well as the tuition," Blair explained. "My mom can't afford to support me, so I have to work." 

"Just how old are you, anyway?" Jim asked. 

"Twenty-two." Blair fixed him with a steady glare. "I'm old enough to know better, but I can't get enough money any other way." 

"So you prostitute yourself in a gay bar," Jim deadpanned. 

"Well, at least Sonny makes sure all the patrons are clean, and most use condoms." 

"But he doesn't seem to care much if they hurt you." 

"My best tipping customer has a thing for bondage," Blair admitted. "It's kinky, and I really don't like it, but what I get from him in one night pays my bills for a week." 

"And he was your john tonight?" 

"Yeah." 

Jim gathered the young man into his arms, pulling him against his body and tucking his head beneath his own chin. "Sleep, Chief. You don't owe me anything in return for the hot water. Just sleep." 

~oO0Oo~ 

The next morning, Jim awoke to the smell of scrambled eggs, toast and coffee. Slipping into his robe, he walked downstairs and into the kitchen. Picking up the coffee pot, he poured himself a cup. "Smells good." 

Blair turned a gleaming smile on him. With his hair hanging loose around his shoulders, dressed in faded denim and flannel, the young man looked good enough to devour whole. Jim walked up behind him, not quite touching, and looked over his shoulder as Blair stirred the eggs. 

"Think you could get the toast?" the young man asked, dodging Jim as he carried the frying pan to the table and dished up the eggs with the spatula. 

Jim tossed the bread onto a plate and carried it to the table, along with a small lazy Susan filled with a variety of jams. Sitting down, he dug heartily into the meal, only to come up coughing and sputtering. 

Blair was up immediately, rounding the corner of the table to stand behind Jim and massage his back and shoulders. "You all right, man? What's the matter?" 

"What did you do? Dump a shit-load of pepper into the eggs?" Jim shouted when he had quit choking enough to speak. 

Blair looked perplexed, but continued to massage Jim's shoulders. "I only put in a pinch," he explained. "I could barely taste it." 

"Well I sure can!" Jim complained. 

Blair walked back to his chair, sat, and tasted his eggs again. "It's barely there, Jim. What's up with you, anyway?" Reaching across the table, he removed the plate of eggs from in front of his host and pushed the toast toward him. "Here, eat this instead." 

Jim picked up a slice and began to smear it with jam. "Sorry," he mumbled, taking a bite. "It wasn't your fault." 

"No, it wasn't," Blair agreed. "Care to explain?" 

"It's nothing." Jim tried brushing the subject off. After a few moments under the scrutiny of his guest, Jim began to speak softly. "It started about three weeks ago. I was on a stakeout in the country. I was camping out, alone, watching this place for signs of activity. We suspected a bomber we were after had hidden out there." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I was boiling some water, getting ready to fix some lunch. . . . Suddenly, the sound of the water was all I could hear. I remember being transfixed by the bubbles as they rose from the bottom of the pot. It was like being pulled into some vortex or something. Then the perp came bursting out of an underground hideout, riding a motorcycle. That broke the spell, but I started having problems after that." 

Blair looked thoughtful. "So there's more involved here than hyper-sensitive taste? You mentioned hearing and sight, as well." 

"Yeah. I thought I was going crazy. Most of the time things would be perfectly normal, then my hearing or sight would spike. It was weird. I requested a medical leave of absence, but my boss refused. He wrangled my ex-wife into taking me out to dinner, to try and convince me to stay. I all but accused the restaurant's chef of trying to poison me." Jim sighed. 

"That's three of your senses run amok," Blair mused. "What about smell and touch?" At Jim's nod, he became more animated. "That's interesting. Very interesting! You see, I'm studying anthropology at Rainier," he explained, his excitement increasing as he spoke. "I recently ran across a monograph by Sir Richard Burton. In it he talks about tribal watchmen -- he called them 'sentinels'. These sentinels were chosen because they had a rare genetic advantage. All five of their senses were enhanced. Their duty was to patrol the borders, keeping an eye on neighboring tribes, movement of game, the weather. . . ." He looked up from his plate to see that he had Jim's full attention. "So far, I've found a few dozen cases of people with one or two hyperactive senses -- taste, smell. You know, people who work as coffee tasters, or for perfume manufacturers. . . . But I've never run across a case with all five senses enhanced. Man, you could be my doctoral dissertation!" 

"Whoa. Hold up there a minute," Jim said, raising up his hands to slow the flood of words. "You're just working on your Masters degree, and you're talking Ph.D.?" 

"I'm almost there, Jim! Just three more credits, and my research paper, and the Masters is mine. Now is the time to be thinking ahead!" Unable to contain his excitement, Blair got up to pace around the table, passing back and forth in front of his host, studying him. When Jim looked about to protest, Blair continued. "You know, these sentinels usually had a partner. Someone who would watch their back while they did their shtick. You see, if the sentinel concentrated too much on one sense, say sight or hearing, he could go into a trance-like state that Burton called a zone-out. During a zone-out, the sentinel would be vulnerable to attack, which is why he had a partner along to help guide him in the use of his senses; to bring him back out of a zone. It's fascinating stuff." 

"That's all very interesting, Chief, but what does it have to do with anything?" Jim asked. 

"I think you already know," Blair astutely observed. "I think you're a throwback to the tribal sentinels." 

"Uh huh," Jim grunted. "Well, we've established that I have hyperactive senses. How do I get rid of them?" 

"Get rid of them?" Blair asked, astonished. "Why would you want to do that?" 

"They get in the way of my work," Jim complained. "I can't afford any more of these, what did you call them -- zone-outs? Hearing things I shouldn't be able to hear, seeing things I shouldn't be able to see . . . it's distracting. It could get me, or someone else, killed." 

Blair found himself becoming even more animated as Jim spoke. "You don't get it, do you? You can't just turn them off. You're on-line now. You're a monster, man! A walking crime lab! All you need is to learn some control, and you'll be unstoppable!" 

"And who is going to teach me this control? You?" Jim locked gazes with the man seated across from him. 

"Love to! Yeah, sure. Just give me some time to look some things up. This is so exciting!" Blair was practically bouncing. 

"I haven't agreed to be your Guinea pig, Sandburg," Jim reminded him. 

"That's okay. We can discuss the particulars later," Blair said, anxious to be going. "Think you could drop me off at Rainier? I'll get started on the research right away." 

"Sure. No problem. You ready to go?" Jim stood, carrying the plates into the kitchen. He scraped the eggs into the disposal, and put the dishes in the dishwasher. 

Blair grabbed his coat and slipped it on. "Ready when you are." 

~oO0Oo~ 

That evening, Jim came home to an empty loft. The kid had only been here, what, ten hours, total? But without him, the apartment seemed lifeless and uninteresting. Jim tried calling the warehouse, after getting the number from information, but there was no answer. He considered calling Rainier, but didn't know how to track down the student. 

Walking to the refrigerator, he pulled a frozen dinner from the freezer, popping it into the microwave to heat. Sitting down to his meal, he contemplated what to do with his Friday night. He really didn't feel much like calling on friends to go out, so when he finished eating, he turned on the TV. Finding he couldn't concentrate on the basketball game, he got up and grabbed his car keys. 

He had been circling the city, no destination in mind, when he found himself in the neighborhood of the nightclub where Blair danced. Had danced, he prayed. He couldn't stand the thought of Blair risking himself like that for a little cash. He pulled the Expedition into a parking space and entered the bar. His heart dropped to his shoes as he spotted the beautiful naked body writhing on stage, teasing the waiting customers. 

He walked back stage, looking for the pimp, prepared to make a deal. 

Sonny shook his head. "Sorry, but another customer has priority on Friday nights. If you don't mind waiting your turn. . . ." 

"How long would I have to wait?" Jim growled, disappointed that he wasn't going to be able to spare Blair the humiliation of servicing that leering fat bastard at the bar. 

"Mr. B rarely needs more than thirty to forty-five minutes," Sonny assured him. "Drinks are on the house while you wait." 

Jim nodded curtly and headed back out to the bar. He passed Blair, who was coming back stage. "Sorry, kid. I tried." 

Blair gave him an inquisitive look, but was hustled off by his pimp before he had a chance to say anything. 

The detective nursed another whiskey sour as he watched the clock slowly ticking off the minutes. The other dancers who came and went in the meantime, held no interest for him. He was startled out of his reverie when Sonny showed up at his side. 

"You can come back now," he said, indicating the door that led back stage. "I still need to clean him up. Then he's all yours." 

"Clean him up?" Jim's voice was just above a whisper. "What, exactly, is involved in cleaning him up?" 

"Well, you must understand, Blair has just had anal intercourse with a customer. He needs to be cleaned up," Sonny explained. 

"He told me the customers use condoms," Jim stated. 

"That's true, for the most part," Sonny agreed. "But recurring customers can forego that requirement, if they provide proof they're clean." 

"And this Mr. B?" Jim's distress was growing by the moment, fearful of what Blair had been put through. 

Sonny shook his head. "Mr. B has been a customer here longer than any of the others. He has a standing exemption to the condom requirement." 

"You bastard!" Jim lifted the pimp off the floor with both fists wrapped in the man's shirt and slammed him against the wall. "You risked that boy's life? For what? A few measly dollars?" 

The pimp clawed at the hands holding him aloft. "M - Mr. B pays top dollar for the younger dancers. Especially the virgins. Let me down, please," he begged. 

"On two conditions," Jim growled. 

"Name them. Name them. They're yours," Sonny panted, still scrabbling to get free. 

"Number one, you let me tend to whatever Blair needs. Number two, this is his last night selling himself for your profit!" He dropped the skinny man into a crumpled heap, and stalked back toward the room where Blair waited. 

He opened the door into the darkened room. Adjusting his sight, he found the young man bound to the bed. Walking over, he picked the handcuff key from the nightstand and unlocked the bracelets. 

"Jim?" Blair's voice was soft with astonishment. "What are you doing here?" 

The detective grimaced at the cruel cock-and-ball ring constricting the younger man's genitals, and proceeded to remove the device, gently massaging the aching erection. "I bought your favors for the rest of the night," he explained. "I was hoping you'd given up this career. I can't afford this every night, you know." He squeezed a bit harder, pumping his fist faster as he felt Blair's balls tighten as the young man climbed toward climax. 

"Gotta . . . gotta . . . make a living," Blair panted. "Oh, God . . . Jim!" he cried as his body convulsed in orgasm. 

Jim gently stroked the young man's arm, calming him as he spiraled down from the high of his climax. "Not anymore, you don't," Jim told him. He proceeded to remove the rest of the bondage gear, until Blair lay totally naked on the bed. "Now what?" he asked. 

"S-Sonny usually comes in and cleans me up before I get another customer," Blair stammered. He indicated the enema kit on the nightstand. "Where is he, anyway?" 

"He's counting himself lucky to be alive. I told him I'd take care of you." Jim pulled the kit off the table and checked it out. 

"You know how to use one of those?" Blair asked nervously. 

Jim nodded. "Yeah. Just give me a minute." He got up and entered the small bathroom, filling the enema kit's reservoir with warm water, and grabbing a pile of towels. 

Returning to the bed, he rolled the young man onto his side, tucking several layers of towels beneath his hips. "Now just relax, okay?" He coated the end of the tube with a little of the lube he found on the table and gently inserted it into Blair's rectum. He kept up a gentle stroking of the silken hair as he slowly emptied the warm water from the reservoir. 

A soft moan issued from Blair's throat; a strangled sound of discomfort. "What's wrong?" Jim asked, leaning over the young man's shoulder to get a look at his face. 

"Cramps," came the softly murmured response. 

Jim began to massage the tight abdominal muscles, listening to the light panting as it smoothed out into a more normal breathing pattern. "It's almost over," Jim assured him, removing the tube and watching as a combination of water and semen dribbled onto the towels. "Let me help you." He sat Blair up and assisted him to stand, walking him into the small bathroom and sitting him on the toilet. A few firm massages of the stomach, and he heard the release as Blair voided the liquid into the bowl. The young man slumped over, trying hard not to cry. Jim brushed the long hair from his face, tipping his head up. "It's over. You're okay. Can you shower?" Blair nodded weakly. "Okay. Get cleaned up." 

Jim walked back into the bedroom, listening as the water to the shower was turned on, and Blair stepped in. He sat on the bed, monitoring the young man's heart rate and breathing as he bathed. When Blair finally emerged from his cleansing, Jim was waiting. 

"Get dressed. We're going home," Jim told him. "As of tonight, you're out of the business." 

Blair shook his head in sad negation. "I wish I could, but I can't, Jim. I need a roof over my head and food in my stomach. Not to mention tuition." 

"Aren't you on scholarships? Grants?" Jim asked. 

Blair frowned, dressing with stiff movements. "Yeah, but they don't pay it all. I'm barely scraping by as it is." 

"I've got a deal for you," Jim suggested. "We'll move your stuff over to my loft. You'll live with me. I've got the spare bedroom. It's yours. All the hot water you want, three meals a day. . . ." 

"Jim, I can't afford to live with you, either," Blair hedged, wondering what exactly his savior wanted in return for his largesse. 

"Oh, I'm not letting you off for free," Jim admitted. "You pay me by helping me with my senses. How's that?" 

"That's all?" Blair asked, uncertain. 

"Look," Jim said flatly. "I'm gay. I admit it. And, I'll admit that I'm very attracted to you. But if you're not with the program, I'm not going to force your hand. I just want to help, and get some help in return." 

Blair nodded. "Okay," he said softly. 

Wrapping his arm around the younger man's shoulders, Jim led him through the door, and out of the establishment toward his truck. 

~oO0Oo~ 

It had been an eventful weekend, full of moving Blair's things across town and settling in. There was no way Blair was ever going to be able to repay Jim's kindness to him. Help with his hyperactive senses just didn't seem like enough. 

The loft was dark and quiet. The sentinel had gone to bed. Hesitantly, at first, and then with more confidence, Blair climbed the stairs to Jim's bedroom. He crawled under the covers, snuggling up against the bigger man. He rubbed his erection across Jim's thigh, and gently kissed him back to consciousness. 

"Blair! What are you doing up here?" Jim asked, genuinely surprised. 

"Saying 'thank you' for all you've done for me this weekend." 

"I thought we had a deal," Jim said, patiently. "I help you with your finances, and you help me with my senses. You're doing a great job. The dials suggestion is working wonders. You don't have to do this." 

"I want to." 

"But you told me you're straight. Blair, you have to get over thinking of your body as a commodity. You don't owe me anything. We're even." Even as he protested, Jim's body was reacting to the closeness of the beautiful young man. His own erection was a dull ache in his groin. 

"Jim, nobody in my life has ever cared for me or done as much for me as you have in just the past few days. You said you're attracted to me." He sighed, his deep blue eyes looking wistful. "So far, my body has only been used, never loved. I think I'd like to experience being loved." He pressed against Jim, bringing their erections into direct contact. 

Jim gasped at the touch, but was reluctant to take this man that he still considered a virgin. Blair's body may have been used, but he was right, he had never been loved. Jim was determined to make sure that this was truly what Blair wanted, before taking that final step. 

"I am attracted to you. But as much as I covet your body, that's not all I need from you," Jim explained. "I want it all. If I can't have it all, I don't want any of it." 

Blair looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean when you say you want it all?" 

"Your body. Your mind. Your soul. I want it all. I want your love, and I want forever. If you can't give that, then it stops right here." 

"I want to know what it feels like to be loved." Blair hesitated. "I don't know if I can give you what you ask, but I'd like to try." 

"All right, but we're taking this slow. Really slow," Jim explained. "Has anyone ever given you a blow job before?" 

Blair shook his head. "The women I've been with . . . no," he concluded. 

"Then we'll start there," Jim decided, rolling the young man onto his back. He straddled Blair's legs, then bent down, slowly taking the rigid shaft down his throat. His hands ghosted across Blair's chest, tangling in the coarse hair, teasing the nipples. The student arched into the touch, begging for more. 

Jim pulled back, exposing the moist shaft to the cool air of the room. He suckled on the head of Blair's penis, swirling his tongue under the ridge, probing the slit and the tiny hole, which was already leaking pre-come. The taste exploded across his tongue, triggering his own premature ejaculation. With a cry, he reared back, shuddering with the release. 

Blair reached up, framing Jim's face with his hands. "The dials, Jim. Remember the dials. Turn down taste and touch." He studied Jim's face, noticed how his whole body began to relax. "That's right. Good, good," he crooned. 

"I'm sorry," Jim whispered. 

"Nothing to be sorry for," Blair assured him. "We can stop now. I think you've had enough for one night." 

"No," Jim returned. "I want to do this for you." I need to do this for me. He leaned back down, taking the cooling shaft back into his mouth and sucking hard. He swallowed Blair's full length, opening his throat to accommodate him. It took only a few thrusts of Blair's eager hips to trigger his release. With a cry of completion, he shot his seed down Jim's throat. Jim swallowed eagerly, licking all remnants of semen from the softening organ before letting it slip from his mouth. 

"Oh, God, Jim . . . that was incredible!" Blair rolled over, plastering his body against Jim's larger frame. "I didn't know making love to another man could feel like that." 

"That's only a taste," Jim assured him. "It gets better." He petted the silken hair, pulling Blair into a close embrace. 

"If that's just a taste," Blair declared, "then I'm switching sides." With a grin, he cuddled against Jim's chest and fell into a sated sleep. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Gordon Bloomfield stormed back stage, grabbing Sonny by the collar. "Where is he? The Sandburg kid didn't dance all weekend, except for Friday. What's the deal?" 

Sonny wrenched himself free from the confining grip. "He turned in his notice. He doesn't work here anymore." 

"Like hell!" the man stormed. "He was the sweetest little piece of ass I've ever had. Get him back!" 

Sonny shrugged. "He's a student at Rainier. They come. They go. They need a little money, work a few weeks, and they're outta here. Someone new should be showing up any time now." 

"I don't want someone new. I want Sandburg!" Bloomfield stormed. 

"Try Rainier, then," Sonny suggested. 

The following morning: 

It was unusually bright and clear for a mid-winter day in Cascade. Blair stepped out of Hargrove Hall, hugging his coat around him. Bright and clear also meant devilishly cold, he thought, watching as his breath condensed when he exhaled. He was feeling particularly pumped, and was excited to be going home. He'd discovered more information that could be helpful in his quest to assist Jim with his senses. He wasn't even aware of the shadow that detached itself from a corner behind one of the large doors to the hall. An arm wrapped around his neck, and a cloth saturated in chloroform covered his nose and mouth. He struggled, but it was a losing battle. 

Consciousness returned slowly, accompanied by a splitting headache and extreme discomfort. Bit by bit, he took in his current situation. He was naked, harnessed and cuffed to the headboard of a bed. Mr. B sat on the edge of the mattress, fondling Blair's penis. With returning consciousness, came the betrayal of his body. As his erection swelled, Mr. B snapped on a cockring one size too small. Blair groaned. 

"You shouldn't have left," Bloomfield scolded. "I was good to you." 

"I got a better offer," Blair growled trying to wriggle out of the man's reach. 

"Nobody makes a better offer than I do," Bloomfield growled in return. "You're my play toy, and you're going to learn your place." He gave Blair's cock one final tug, then stood up to leave, a feral grin on his face. 

"Oh, God," Blair groaned as the lights were turned off and the door closed with a quiet click behind his captor. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim checked the clock: 8:31. Blair should have been home long ago. If something had kept him at the university, Jim was sure the young man would have called. A cold knot formed in the pit of his stomach. He was so sure he had convinced the boy to leave his life of prostitution, but having worked for a time in Vice, he knew that the lure of easy money and threats from an angry pimp could keep the kid a virtual slave to the life. He donned his coat and headed down to the bar. 

Stepping through the front door, he was relieved to not see Blair on the stage, or that sleaze, Mr. B, in the audience. That, however, could be a good thing, or a bad thing. He headed back stage to talk to the bar's manager and resident pimp. 

Sonny turned when the heavy hand landed on his shoulder. "Oh, Mr. Ellison. Nice to see you again." 

"Where's Blair?" Jim growled. 

"Blair? He handed in his notice Saturday. Didn't you know? He said he was living with you, now." 

"He didn't come home today," Jim said, tightening his grip. 

Sonny shook under the onslaught. "I don't know where he is, honest! He hasn't been in since the weekend." 

"Then where's his favorite john, a guy named Mr. B?" He shook the smaller man. 

"He was in earlier," Sonny said, nervously. "He was asking about Blair. I told him the kid didn't work here anymore." 

"Is that all you told him?" 

"I told him that the university students don't generally stay long. They get a little cash, and then they're gone. Hey, Buddy," Sonny pleaded, "I didn't tell him anything important. Let me go, okay?" 

Jim loosened his grip, but continued to glare at the man. "You told this creep that Blair was a student at Rainier?" Sonny nodded. "Great. Just great. What is this guy's real name?" Jim gave Sonny a final shake. 

"Bloomfield," the frightened man replied. "Gordon Bloomfield." 

Jim let the man loose and turned on his heel, stalking toward the door. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Rainier University was alight with activity, even after nine in the evening. Jim, however, knew precious little about the campus, or Blair's activities there. After asking around, he was directed to Hargrove Hall, and the Department of Anthropology. 

"Blair's last class let out at 12:20," one female student told him. "He was excited about something. Said he had to get home and tell Jim some important news." 

"But he never made it home," Jim said. "Did he say anything about stopping anywhere first? The library? A bookstore? A sorority?" 

The girl giggled. "No, sir. He didn't mention any side trips at all. Whatever he'd found out, he was anxious to share with this Jim person." 

"Okay. Thanks." Jim turned his back on the girl. He'd received much the same story from everyone he'd spoken to. It was getting late, so he steered the Expedition toward home. It was too soon to panic. The kid was young, energetic, and Jim had to admit that he didn't know him well enough to judge whether or not he might have taken off for an evening with some girl. His gut instinct told him something wasn't right, but his logical mind took him home and up to bed. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Bloomfield entered the room, turning on the lights. Blair winced at the brightness, blinking back tears. The older man approached him, stroking a hand lightly down his chest, pinching and rolling his nipples to hard peaks, then stroking his painfully sensitive erection. Blair cried out in anguish. 

"Ready to cooperate yet?" Bloomfield sat on the side of the bed. 

"Never," Blair spat. 

"Never is a pretty long time," Bloomfield commented dryly. "Just how long do you think you can last?" 

"As long as it takes," Blair answered defiantly. He gasped in pain as Bloomfield wrapped his fist around his tender cock. 

"How long do you think you can stay like this without damage to your precious dick?" He rubbed his thumb along the length of the swollen, purple organ. Blair bit back a cry. "Well, I guess we're going to see, aren't we?" Bloomfield stood and left the room, plunging Blair back into darkness. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"It's been twenty-four hours, Simon," Jim argued. 

"We can't issue a missing person report yet, Jim, and you know it," Simon answered, trying to calm his detective. "Besides, what do you really know about this kid? You only met him a few days ago. For all you know, he could be off partying with some of his friends. It is the weekend, after all." 

"I don't think so," Jim replied. "All the information I got was that he had discovered something he was excited to tell me about. Everyone I spoke with had the impression he'd headed straight back to my place." He sighed. "Simon, he's helping with my senses. He's the only one who has been able to make a difference. He's passionate about this sentinel thing of his. He wouldn't just disappear. I've got a really bad feeling about this. I think Blair's in trouble." 

"And where do you plan on looking first?" 

"Gordon Bloomfield," Jim told him. 

"Bloomfield?" Simon exploded. "The business magnate? What makes you think he would have anything to do with Blair's disappearance?" 

"Well, sir," Jim hedged. "Blair worked across town in the CockTail Lounge. Bloomfield frequented the place and had taken an unhealthy interest in him." 

"Unhealthy? How do you define 'unhealthy'?" Simon asked. 

"He, uh, kept propositioning Blair." 

"The kid told you this?" Simon sounded skeptical. 

"Yeah," Jim fibbed, unwilling to tell his boss the entire truth. 

"What makes you think he didn't have some disagreement with Bloomfield, and was using this as an excuse to get the man into some kind of trouble?" Simon probed. 

"He's not like that, sir," Jim insisted. "Bloomfield is a complete sleaze. I'm worried about Blair's safety." 

"Well," Simon hesitated, "go ahead and look into it, but keep it discreet. Hear me?" 

Jim nodded in ready agreement. "Yes, sir." 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim spent the rest of the day researching the businessman. It appeared that the man had some shady dealings in the prostitution market, and a decidedly kinky taste for young, virgin males. Someone as beautiful as Blair would have quickly caught his eye. 

It took overnight to convince a judge there was enough evidence to issue a search warrant of Bloomfield's home. Even so, the judge signed the warrant with hesitation. "If you're wrong, Detective, you're pissing off a very powerful man." 

"I know that, ma'am," Jim said, gratefully accepting the warrant. 

Jim arranged for backup, but wanted to confront Bloomfield alone. Reluctantly, Simon had agreed that it might be for the best, but insisted on coming as part of the backup team. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim stormed into Bloomfield's home, the moment he opened the door. "Where is he? Where's Sandburg?" 

Gordon Bloomfield composed himself, stretching to his full height of five-nine. "I have no idea what you're talking about, and would appreciate it if you would please step outside." 

"Not going to happen, Bloomfield," Jim snarled at the man. He waved the warrant in his face and began to prowl the house. 

"I don't know what you're looking for," the man insisted, following Jim around like a deranged puppy. 

"Who, not what," Jim said, stretching out his fledgling senses in search of the young man. "You have an obsession with Blair Sandburg, and now he's come up missing. I've been looking for nearly two days." 

"And what makes you think that he's here?" Bloomfield sputtered nervously. 

Jim turned a disdainful look on the fat man. "Because he isn't anywhere else," he said with finality. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed quickly. "Yeah, Simon? Could you please send someone in here to detain Mr. Bloomfield? He's getting in the way of my investigation." Within minutes, Bloomfield was being dragged back into the living room. Jim continued his search of the back hallways. 

A soft noise caused him to pause in front of one door. Carefully, he pushed it open, allowing his sight to adjust to the darkness of the room. Cuffed to the bed was the figure of a nude man, soft brown curls cascading over his shoulders. 

"Blair!" Jim rushed across the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he unlocked the handcuffs, freeing Blair from his prison. 

"Jim?" The voice that greeted him was weak and scratchy. Jim rolled Blair onto his side and began to remove the studded leather harness. His eyes fell on the cruelly swollen penis. As he made a move to remove the cockring, Blair cried out in agony. Jim gathered the young man into his arms, whispering words of comfort. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"All things considered, he's not too badly off," Doctor Richardson told Jim and Simon. "We have him on IV fluids to rehydrate him. He should stay in the hospital at least twenty-four hours for observation. The cockring cut off circulation to his penis for a considerable period of time. Fortunately for him, there should be no permanent damage. Unfortunately, he's going to be extremely tender for a while. We have a catheter in now, and would suggest it stay in for a week, at which time I'd like to see Mr. Sandburg again for a brief check-up." 

Simon nodded. "Thanks, Doctor." 

"Can I go in to see him now?" Jim asked, glancing through the door to the resting man. 

"We have him medicated, so he may not be too coherent, but he has been asking for you," the doctor said, smiling. "Go on in." 

Jim quietly approached the bed, lifting and cradling one hand in both of his. "Hey, Chief. How're you doing?" 

"Jim?" The response was hoarse and soft. 

"Yeah, that's me, Buddy. I'm here." His thumb rubbed circles on the back of the hand he held. "The doctor says you can probably go home tomorrow." 

"That's good. I wanna go home." 

"You're coming home with me," Jim clarified. 

"Mm-hmm," Blair agreed, squeezing Jim's hand. 

One week later: 

"God, it feels good to get rid of that damn catheter. I was beginning to think I'd forgotten how to pee," Blair said fervently, flushing the toilet and turning to the sink to wash his hands. 

"How does it feel?" To Jim's eyes, the young man's penis still looked bruised and tender. 

"Hurts . . . a little," Blair admitted. "But not too bad. Are you going to let me sleep with you tonight?" 

Jim had remanded Blair to the downstairs bedroom until the doctor gave him the all-clear. "Are you sure that's what you want?" 

"It's all I thought about this past week," Blair admitted. "It's what kept me going when Bloomfield had me. Yes, I want to sleep with you." 

"But you told me you were straight," Jim reminded him. "I don't want you doing this out of some demented sense of duty." 

"I've been rethinking that," Blair said, musing. "I'm thinking now that I'm probably bi. I just never felt attracted to a man before you." 

"If you're sure. . . ." Jim wanted this so badly that he ached. But he didn't want it at all, if it wasn't freely given. He had to make certain. 

"Jim, are you trying to talk me out of this?" Blair asked, heading for the stairs to Jim's bedroom. "No matter what you might think of me, I do possess the ability to make decisions for myself." Reaching the top of the staircase, he climbed onto the bed, patting the mattress to have Jim join him there. When the older man knelt beside him, Blair gathered him into his arms and kissed him. "I may not have much experience when it comes to sex between two guys, but I think I've found myself an excellent instructor." He pulled Jim down onto the bed. "Teach me what it feels like to be loved." 

Jim began a gentle and thorough exploration of the willing body, preparing Blair gently with the same thoroughness when the time came. 

"I want to see you making love to me," Blair panted. "Please, Jim." 

Jim rolled the young man onto his back, slipping a pillow beneath his hips for support. "Bend your knees, Sweetheart," Jim instructed. When he had done so, Jim positioned the head of his cock at Blair's entrance, and pushed carefully past the tight ring of muscle. "Just relax. Breathe. Breathe. That's good. When you're relaxed, it doesn't hurt as much." 

"Does it always hurt?" Blair asked, almost beyond speech. 

"Maybe. Just a little," Jim told him. "But it's over with quickly. Let me show you." He bent down to capture the full lips, brushing his thumbs across raised nipples, while he slowly pushed his way deeper into the tight passage. Blair's body bucked beneath his, impaling himself fully on Jim's cock. 

"Oh, God! Oh, Jim!" Blair cried, squirming as Jim's mouth began suckling a nipple and his cock began a gentle rhythm in and out. 

Jim paused, buried deeply inside his new lover. Framing Blair's face with his hands, he caught the young man's attention. "Are you all right?" 

Blair nodded fiercely. "More than all right." The whispered words were barely audible. "Get on with it!" 

"Just checking." Jim smiled and released his hold on Blair's head. Angling his thrusts, he brushed Blair's prostate on the next three successive thrusts. 

Blair arched under him, crying out and climaxing without Jim having to touch his lover's still-tender cock. He leaned down to lick the semen from Blair's chest, continuing to thrust as Blair's channel clenched tightly around him, milking his own orgasm soon after. He collapsed on top of the younger man, then rolled off and gathered him into his arms. "That's what it feels like to have someone who loves you, cherish you." 

"If that's what it's like, I want it every night for the rest of my life," Blair declared, snuggling against Jim's chest. 

"This is only the beginning," Jim assured him. "As soon as you're healed enough to be comfortable, I'll teach you how to make love to me." 

"I already love you," Blair told him with certainty, all doubt removed. 

"And I love you, too," Jim replied, hardly able to believe the warm, willing body in his arms was really his. 

"Forever," Blair murmured, on the edge of sleep. 

"Forever," Jim echoed, wrapping his arms around his new lover and holding him close. 

* * *

End Paying the Rent by Natalie L: nat1228@comcast.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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